Predator
by Reiji Neko Mitsukai
Summary: Yes, he survived Raccoon City. Yes, he survived the Los Illuminados. But Leon S. Kennedy's work isn't done yet. Snippet inspired by a meme. Poor Leon.
1. Predator

Disclaimer: I don't own anyone you recognize from the games.

Author's note: This little scribble has a history. You see, it started when I decided to do a RE meme on DeviantART. This particular meme includes the question "You're infected with the T-virus. What happens to you?" and in the process of answering that question, I created not only a new creature but a backstory to go with it- hence, this.

And why Leon? Because I loved his response to Ashley's "No way, Leon!"

_Predator_

Leon Kennedy wished he knew how he kept getting himself into these situations.

After the whole fiasco in Spain with the Los Illuminados, he had made a quick stop at the White House to drop off Ashley, stand there and smile with an occasional nod through the whole speech of debt of gratitude, asset to the country, receiving a commendation, blah blah blah. Those were peachy and all, but the _real_ reward was waiting for him in his little one-bedroom apartment.

He slept for eighteen hours when he got back home, interrupted only by the need to take care of certain bodily functions and the occasional hazy nightmare- one didn't survive two events like those and come out of it mentally unscathed, after all. A few days later he received another call from the President and his daughter, checking up on him to make sure he was all right. He didn't know how much the President knew of what had really happened, nor did he really care. Now that Ashley was no longer his responsibility, he could finally focus on himself- he was underweight, dehydrated, and malnourished from the adventure, never mind the borderline extreme exhaustion he was feeling when he got back to the states. It was the first time in what felt like ages he could relax, and he was taking full advantage of that.

It was a week later he got another call, this one _not_ from the White House. Strange reports had been coming in around a forest in Montana- people in the area were disappearing, and some were hearing strange sounds. It was suspected Umbrella had something to do with it. They wanted him to check it out.

"You're the best one for the job," they had reasoned after he had uttered the words 'Oh HELL no'. "You've dealt with Umbrella before and you know what they can dish out. You'd be the most prepared."

He didn't bother pointing out that _nobody_ could be prepared for what the twisted minds at Umbrella could dish out- they wouldn't have listened anyway. And so he found himself once again creeping down dark hallways, tightly clutching a loaded gun and feeling the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He swore to himself that after this one he would demand a very early retirement.

Then again, he reasoned after watching the headless body of a zombie crumble to the ground, if he didn't go, they'd end up sending somebody else to check out the problem- and the poor shmuck would probably end up eaten.

So long as that "poor shmuck" wasn't him.

He had found some offices higher up in the underground complex- meaning closer to ground level- and had found the office inhabitants, who he quickly disposed of to save his own skin, and some very interesting documents. Apparently the head honcho of the complex- a certain man named Wesker- had gotten his hands on a sample of the virus used in Spain. With it, and a sample of Umbrella's earlier viruses, the purpose of the lab was to make a mixture of them: one that would create the mutations of the earlier viruses, but would be able to control the hosts, like the one from the Los Illuminados. After many initial failures, they found a combination that didn't kill the host completely, and so they tested it on human subjects. Most of these were reduced to drooling, moaning zombies that weren't very useful for being controlled. A select few, however, turned into something else, and research continued. However, when it came time to test how well they could be controlled… Well, there was a reason the employees were seeking live flesh to chew on.

However, it seemed that even in a place like this there was some ray of hope. The breakout had been so sudden he had even found some documents still sitting in the printers- much to his surprise, though, some weren't company documents. Rather, three of the sheets he had picked up were a log of six survivors- people who were kidnapped for the experiments that had been on the lab tables, awaiting their dose of the virus when the outbreak occurred. There was a grand total of three pages so far; the first page recounted the identity of the six- who they were, what they did, any family they had- while the other two retold the horrors they faced trying to reach the surface and escape the complex. According to the last page he had read, there were still three of the six left- the first to go had apparently received their "treatment" before the outbreak, and had succumbed to the virus before long. He could only guess what had happened to the other two; he presumed the three survivors found it too horrible to retell.

He tucked these into his pocket with the official documents. The families of these people will need to be contacted. He had been hoping this wouldn't turn into another escort mission, but he couldn't just leave the three survivors to wander in an attempt to escape. He would have to help them.

That had been some time ago. He had found more documents since then- especially helpful was the roster of "volunteers" he had found after blasting away one of the more successful experiments. There was no sign of Ada anywhere- whether that was a good thing or not, he was still trying to decide.

Most of the lights overhead were broken, turning the hallway ominously dark. The once stainless steel was spattered with blood- pooled in some places- and the only thing he could hear was the steady _drip, drip_ of water somewhere and his own deliberately quiet footsteps. So far, there was a lack of creatures, which- of all things- disturbed him a little bit. They were plentiful elsewhere in the complex, but for some reason they were scarce here. But _why_?

Seeing light flickering, he diverted his attention. The light was coming from a small window in a nearby door. Ducking into the shadow, he cautiously approached the door and peered in.

One of remaining lights inside was sputtering, another one remaining on. It seemed to be another one of the researcher's stations- papers were scattered all over the desk, and a computer stared blankly into the muted darkness as it waited for someone to use it. Nothing was moving inside.

Regardless, he proceeded with caution, nudging open the door slowly as he stuck his gun in the room first, keeping his eyes and ears peeled for any movement that would give away the presence and location of anything inside. Once he was completely inside- and there was still nothing trying to eat him- he lowered the gun and moved towards the computer screen.

It was a document, but not one of the official kinds. Apparently, the survivors had been here. And where the survivors had been, there was usually a printed log of their adventure in the nearest printer.

Looking around, he located the printer nearby and looked inside the tray. Sure enough, there was a sheet of paper inside, waiting.

But something wasn't right. All the other sheets were facing print-down when he found them; this one was print-up. Meaning someone else had handled it before him.

Casting another wary glance around the room, he cautiously reached out and picked it up. When nothing happened- he was half-expecting something to explode or jump out at him- he looked at it.

The first thing he noticed was small spots on the paper where there had once been moisture of some kind, but had dried. This had caused the ink to blur, at some spots to the point where the words were unrecognizable. The spots were small- about a drop of water each- and a thin film had settled over each one. Now curious, he read it.

_I'm the last one. Everyone else is dead, or worse. _

_I didn't want to die this way. Not down here, in some Godforsaken _(He guessed this word was supposed to be "hellhole")_ surrounded by zombies and mutations and _(this word was too blurry to read) _I never wanted this for myself; I was supposed to settle down and live out the rest of my life… _

_If anyone alive finds this, I'm begging you- get out of here, find the police, and have this place destroyed. If not for me, then for the sake of all mankind. If these things find their way through to the surface, there's no telling the damage that could be done. So many people would die… _

_Tell my family that I love them and that no matter what they may hear, DON'T come looking for me. And _(there was apparently a name here, but the only thing that could be identified was the beginning "F")_- I'm so sorry I never came back; I've missed you so much since that day, and now that I'm going to die I just wish… I love you; don't ever forget that._

_Oh God. There's one outside… I only have five bullets left- I'm going to be eaten, and there's no way I can avoid it. I consider these my final words. God help us all._

There was the name of the lone survivor and a date at the bottom. He recognized the name from the first page- one of the two women of the group. The date was three days before he got the call. He gently touched the film left behind on the paper and observed what had stuck to his finger. It was very hard to see, but it appeared to be almost white. Tentatively, he brought it to his mouth and tasted it. It was salty. She had been crying when she picked up the paper, probably to read it over and delay the inevitable. Not that he could blame her- she was a regular young adult thrown unwillingly into this mess, and was now going through it alone.

Was she still alive? He had to find out and get her out of here. Tucking the sheet of paper with the rest of them, he searched the room for anything useful, finding nothing. He was done here.

He left the same way he entered- gun first, listening and watching closely for a sign of carnivorous beasts. Again, eerie silence answered him. Fully leaving the office, he peered further down the hallway. Nothing.

Making his way down the stainless steel, he kept a sharp eye on his surroundings- not just for anything that might be trying to eat him, but for any sign that the girl might have survived this long. Without provisions, it was highly unlikely. But he wasn't about to just assume her dead.

About twenty feet further down the hall he noticed a small black object in a pool of red. Cautiously approaching, he kneeled beside it to get a closer look.

It was a small handgun, sitting in a dried puddle of blood; with it were scraps of what appeared to be denim- possibly the remains of someone's jeans- and other bits of cloth, as well as a sheared belt with a holster- which was empty, naturally- and pouch. He emptied the magazine of the gun to find only two bullets. Better than nothing, he supposed, and moved on to the pouch. He was expecting it to be empty, but when he reached inside he was a little surprised to feel his fingers brush against something. Pulling it out, he held it up and inspected it.

It was a necklace, with a dainty silver chain and an ornament composed of three small pearls arrayed around an even smaller diamond. The chain was snapped near the latch- probably why the owner wasn't wearing it when they were attacked. Perhaps he'll be able to return it to their family when this was over.

Pocketing the items, he rose to his feet and looked around again before continuing. Aside from finding the lone survivor, his mission seemed pretty basic- gather more info, find the self-destruct device, activate it, and beat feet out of there. Easier said than done, of course.

The hallway abruptly turned left, and he followed that corridor until it branched off to his right. Glancing down where the hallway continued- it was a pretty good guess it finished off the square the hallways seemed to make- so he took the branch off.

This one was just as dark and gory as the others, and just as silent. He treated it the same way, carefully listening for any movement. It disturbed him that there was a lack of zombies in this area. Not that he wasn't grateful for the respite from the constant aiming, shooting, and reloading. He just couldn't shake off the thought that zombies weren't smart enough to avoid an area for any reason- and that meant that something was killing them off. And not just killing- he wasn't seeing any with holes in their heads or any limbs laying around. Other than smears of blood, he wasn't finding traces of them.

He _really_ didn't like where that train of thought kept going.

A faint sound reached his ears, and he stopped. There it was- the telltale moaning. This was the first he had heard from a zombie in a while. Now, to confront it or to just watch and see what happens to it? There _had_ to be a reason why this particular section was devoid of the undead- and if it was that much of a threat, he probably needed to know about it.

Keeping to the shadows, he crept as quietly as he could, trying to will his heart to stop beating so loudly. The hallway turned right up ahead- the sound was coming from there- and so he quickly moved to the other side of the corridor he was in so he could peek around the corner. Once there he crouched down in the darkness, his eyes widely dilated as he peered cautiously into the space beyond.

It was easy to spot. A flickering light from a room down the hall sporadically lit up a small part of the area as it filtered through the window in the door. The zombie had apparently been one of the scientists that worked in the complex, as it wore a tattered lab coat spotted with blood- primarily around the waist, as that was where the bites had been taken from. It was just standing there, facing his direction and rocking just a little bit, looking for all the world like it was trying to determine where to go next.

Leon didn't move. He barely dared to breathe, instead waiting with abated breath as the seconds ticked by. Fortunately, he didn't have to wait for long.

Like lightning, a tawny and clawed hand shot out from the darkness, catching the zombie by the legs and sending it to the floor with a guttural sound. Arms moved to push itself back up, and Leon held in a gasp as it was suddenly dragged into the shadows, chipped nails dragging on the steel floor as it moaned. There was a slight hissing sound from the darkness after it disappeared from sight, followed by a loud and stomach-churning _crack_. The moaning abruptly stopped.

He remained still as he heard the zombie getting dragged away. Did he want to follow? No, not really. _Should_ he follow? Yes, probably. The creature had been taking out zombies- something he never saw any of the other mutations do- meaning it was a considerable threat. He was better off finding out while he was still unknown rather than finding out while he's trying to fight it off. Time to brush up on his recon skills…

He waited until the sound of the zombie being dragged faded a bit more before quickly moving to the next shadow, waiting until the sound faded a bit more, then continued on to the next shadow. He knew now that whatever it was, it was a predator, and he didn't want to risk being seen or heard. So he followed that pattern, choosing caution over speed- he noticed a fresh trail of smeared blood left behind where the zombie was dragged, so it would be easy to find it again.

The hallway turned left, and the trail was quickly dwindling to nothing. Over that, he couldn't really hear it anymore. But if he'd screw up, he'd rather err on the side of caution. So he didn't speed up or change his strategy.

Which left him in a bit of a spot when the hallway came to a T. The creature either went to the left or to the right- the trail was gone and so was the sound of the zombie being dragged away, so he had no way to determine which. Mentally flipping a coin, he decided to go right.

It took him an hour to search the hallway and all the rooms in it; he found some more ammo and a key card he would probably need later, but that was it. No sign of the zombie or the creature. He went the wrong way.

Well, wouldn't be the first time. He doubled back and went down the hall he was supposed to. If he was lucky, he probably had missed out on whatever the creature was doing to the zombie- eating it, was his guess. Not something he really wanted to watch.

It was almost another hour of searching room-by-room, returning to "cautious mode" but not really expecting to find it. It was like it had disappeared. He went through office after office, lab after lab, and found some more ammo and a nice automatic piece, but no sign of the creature. He'd really like to know how it managed this…

Finally, he reached the last office. He discovered he didn't need to nudge open the door, since it already was. Entering gun-first, he cautiously looked around- computer terminals lined most of the walls, making him guess this was a command center of sorts. The computers turned the room into a U-shape, with a branch of computers jutting into the middle of the room. A lone light was working overhead. Most of the computers were working, but he either didn't understand what they did or didn't care. Nothing was moving. Relaxing a little bit, he lowered the gun and walked over to the other side of the room-

- Only to stop dead in his tracks, his eyes widening.

Hiding behind the branch of computer terminals was what he could only describe as a nest, made out of mounds of various scraps of cloth (a large amount of them seeming to be from the remains of lab coats) and an occasional bone. There was a ridge of cloth tucked in the back-most corner, forming an "inner nest" where he saw five creatures nestled. The largest was tawny in color- matching the clawed hand he saw earlier- and was mostly humanoid in shape, save the long tail that had sprouted from the lower back. Its lower half was on its left side, while the front was face down, the arms bracing it up just a little. Dirty, dishwater blonde hair was swept back, falling over muscled shoulders. The muzzle bulged out in an almost animalistic way. The tattered remains of a shirt- gray and dirty now- clung around the chest, the creature obviously female. Likewise, there seemed to be underwear of sorts on the lower half, likewise tattered around the edges. The prominent brow was furrowed as blank, white eyes seemed to burn into him in a glare. The mouth was open just enough for him to see the sharp, bloodstained teeth underneath. She was growling at him- warning him to stay away- and it was easy to see why. Nestled in the curve she had originally formed when she was resting were four smaller versions of herself. They varied in skin and hair tone- one of them having almost black hair- and one had awoken, peering up at him with equally white eyes, its front limbs hanging over the tail of its mother, which had moved to curl around the bunch protectively.

_Babies._

He had just noticed the bones resting near the babies when the growling intensified, and he realized it was time to _get out._ Crouching down to make himself smaller, he slowly backed away, an old saying of his grandfather's about mother bears echoing in his head. "I'm going," he said softly as he continued to retreat. The growling continued, but she didn't pursue him. Once he was out of sight behind the computers he turned and booked it out of the room, not stopping until he made it to the office where he had found the sheet of the last survivor- if she had changed her mind about not chasing him, he didn't want to give her a chance to catch up. As it was, his mind was still reeling a bit as he leaned against the wall near the door.

_Babies._

Had she been pregnant before she was mutated, and the virus changed both her and the embryo? Or had Umbrella created a creature that could breed? Breeding monsters… the very thought sent a chill down his spine.

The bones near the babies had gnaw marks in them- _The kids are teething,_ came the thought in his mind- and there was no doubt that those bones were from the zombie he had watched her take down.

His eyes came to rest on the computer screen, which was still on and waiting, and something in his mind clicked. The creature had dishwater blonde hair…

Quickly, he dug into his pockets, fishing out the roster he had found earlier and flipped the numerous pages. It contained a brief bio of each person, including name, age, ethnicity, percent body fat, color of eyes and hair, an assigned experiment number, and a color photo. Walking to the computer, at the same time he quickly scanned the names on the roster, waiting for one to look familiar. He paused briefly to look at the name on the bottom of the last log on the computer before resuming his search. She had to be in there somewhere…

Bingo. Right there. Quickly, he looked at her photo, tilting the paper towards the functioning light. Frightened and angry blue/green eyes looked back at him, her arms being held by black-gloved hands to hold her still. Her dishwater blonde hair was disheveled. It matched the hair on the creature.

Damnit- he was too late!

With a sigh, he moved to put the papers away, but then something else caught his eye. Holding it up again, he peered closely at the picture.

A delicate silver chain was hanging around her neck, three pearls and a diamond suspended at the bottom.

He fished for the treasure in his pocket and pulled it out, comparing it to the one in the picture. They were the same.

So that dried-up puddle of blood down the hall was hers. She had gotten only three shots at her attacker before the end. It probably wasn't long after that she mutated into that thing and had babies. There was no mention of her being pregnant on the roster; then again, they probably didn't bother to check. He earnestly hoped she was pregnant before she was infected- it sounded cruel, but the alternative was much worse.

_The End?_

Author's notes: So not only did I write that, but I also have a boss fight death and an... ah, "alternate ending" as well, if you'd be interested in reading it. I can post them in separate chapters for you guys and everything. Let me know what you think.


	2. Boss Fight Death

Disclaimer: If you recognize 'em, I don't own 'em.

Author's note: For those of you that have played RE4; do you remember all those times you had to "shake off" an enemy or you'd die in a pretty bad way? While I was writing the first bit, I thought to myself, 'Self, what would happen if your story was a game and Leon didn't shake the creature off in time?' This is the result. Enjoy the Leon-death.

Oh, and with the incorporation of this chapter, I'm going to have to mark this story up to Mature. Just in case you didn't notice.

_Predator: Boss fight death_

He had to get to that console- without the self-destruct device, he couldn't destroy the facility. But to reach it, he had to get past the nest. And to do that, he'd have to get past the mother. And that- she had made clear- would be over her dead body. Which could be arranged.

But the problem was that she was quick, and spent most of her time skittering in the shadows along the walls and ceiling, the claws on her hands and feet making this irritatingly possible. Also, when he was looking for her after her disappearing acts, she had the habit of dropping from the ceiling behind him or springing from a shadowed wall to take a swipe at him. He had been fortunate so far- he had dodged most of her attacks and managed to get a few shots at her- and wasn't hurt too bad yet.

Now if only he could think of a way to light up all the dark corners at once; this game of hide and seek was getting very old, very fast...

Looking for a flash of motion overhead, he heard the familiar sound of claws on the wall behind him, and he quickly turned and sidestepped to avoid the impending claw swipe. He saw the tawny blur go by- as expected- but in the next instant felt something heavy bash against the back of his knees, the unexpected move sending him to the floor. The air left his lungs in a groaned rush. A split second later he felt something tugging on his shirt, and once his vision cleared he saw, from the corner of his eye, the creature with her teeth firmly set into the fabric as she pulled, himself sliding along the floor. Quickly, he reached up with his arms in an attempt to knock her away with his elbow- wherever she was planning on taking him, he was sure he did _not _want to get there.

However, as soon as his arms were up he felt her clawed hands pin them to the floor- rendering them useless. Feeling the spike of urgency-borderline-panic, he flailed his body around in an attempt to break free as he felt the edge of the outer nest pass by under his back. She was dragging him towards her nest- he _had_ to shake her off; before he got too far...

As he twisted his body in an attempt to spin free from her grip, he caught a glimpse of the ridge surrounding the inner nest; the four babies were all leaning up on the top of it, attentively watching him squirm and flail in the clutches of their mother.

They were learning how to deal with live prey.

His panic building, Leon flailed his legs. Dragging his heels in an attempt to get them to catch on something would do him no good if all he could catch was cloth. If only he could get them up high enough to kick her away...

His head bumped the ridge of bloodied cloth, and he struggled even harder as she gave him a rough jerk to get him up over it. She was now pulling him down into the inner nest where the babies were cheeping and screeching with excitement.

His lower body was still outside the ridge when she stopped, his lower back arched to a painful degree as his legs began to kick at nothing, desperate for escape. With a sudden tearing sound, the kicking paused for an instant for a spasmodic jerk, then continued as his voice could be heard from inside, the noises choked and painful.

"AAGHKT... GSHT..." The kicking slowed, his legs moving less and less. "HNNGKT…"

One leg gave a twitch, the squelching sound of internal organs getting louder.

"... unh..."

With that final noise, Leon stopped moving altogether, his body going limp. The screen goes dark.

_YOU DIED_

Author's note: So yes. If you don't shake her off before she drags you to the inner nest, Leon will be quite dead.

Of course, there would be other ways to die, such as if she just slashed you to death with her claws. But that's pretty basic, so I didn't write that. Up next is the "special" ending.


	3. Special Ending

Disclaimer: You know the drill. I don't own 'em if'n you know 'em.

Author's note: Running along the same "what if it was a game" idea, I thought of this while coming up with the explanation for how my creature could continue to have babies. More Leon-death. Poor guy.

_Predator: "Special" ending_

It had looked easy enough when he had first sneaked in. The "kids" were all asleep at the bottom of the inner nest, and the mom- he had taken to calling her "Madre" since the Plagas were used in the creation of the R-Virus- was nowhere to be found. However, as soon as he got into the outer nest she suddenly dropped from above, scaring the hell out of him and almost scratching his eyes out. He jumped back to avoid the swinging claws. Madre was growling at him fiercely, almost daring him to come closer. He backed off a few steps.

"Take it easy," he told her gently, putting his hands up- one of them with the gun still in it. "I don't want to hurt you or your babies. I just need to get to that console."

Her tail whipped angrily back and forth as she continued to growl. Her fangs bared and she snapped at him.

"Okay… I'll take that as a no." He loaded his gun. This wouldn't be easy…

Boy was he right. She kept moving around, hiding in the shadows, and was increasingly difficult to hit. Not even the little robots Krauser threw at him were this irritating…

It was while he was trying to find her in those shadows overhead did he notice the four babies peering up at him from the rim of the inner nest, tails flicking back and fourth as they eagerly watched. An idea formed in his head. Madre was a mother, right? So if her babies were threatened, she would stay in one place to defend them…

Quickly lowering his gun from the ceiling, he aimed it at the babies and pulled the trigger.

He never found out if he actually hit one or not, as in the next instant he heard a feral scream and something heavy tackled him from his right, sending him to the floor so hard the breath was knocked from his lungs. Once the spots faded from his vision, he abruptly realized that the weight pinning him to the floor was Madre- and if he thought she had been angry before, she was in a rage now. Her claws dug into his shoulders as she snarled in his face, him grimacing and turning his face away in an attempt to avoid both the bloody drool and the smell of decaying matter on her breath. At the same time he tried to wedge his forearm against her throat to keep her from gnawing on his. Perhaps threatening the babies _hadn't_ been a good idea after all…

Her teeth snapped inches from his face, getting a view of her sharp fangs he never wanted. It was a battle of strength, and he could only hope he would win…

Slowly, with his arm shaking ever so slightly, her fangs moved away from his head, a line of drool falling from her open mouth to land on his cheek. If he could just get a foot under her to kick her off…

Until she suddenly jerked her head back, bringing her open jaws around his arm.

He cried out as she bit down, his own blood dripping down onto his face. He could have sworn something had flashed in her eyes- or was it her eyes that flashed?- and she paused. He took that opportunity to wrench his arm free from her teeth, tearing the skin even more. He cringed at the pain that shot up his arm.

With her jaws now free, she suddenly brought her head down, her teeth sinking into the base of his exposed neck. Red oozed out from around her fangs and dribbled to the floor; an attempt by Leon to cry out was choked off as he gasped, the sound audible over the slurping sound Madre was making as she began to suck up as much as she could. He tried to struggle- to throw her off before she drank too much- but his body was getting cold, and his vision was starting to fade; loosing so much blood...

She bit down harder, drawing up more of the precious liquid and making him groan as he felt his collarbone crack. He audibly choked. He felt like she was going to drain him; judging by how eagerly she seemed to drink, that was her intent. It didn't help that his heart was pounding so hard it was reverberating in his ears, not to mention making his blood come out in squirts around her mouth.

Her weight suddenly felt crushing, and he stopped struggling. So cold...

Finally she stopped, releasing his neck as his own blood dripped down on him. Weakly he tried to bring his hands to the wound in an effort to stop the spurting red liquid, but it was in vain as the creature on him growled for a moment before striking again.

The screen fades to black as Leon screams.

The view fades back into a familiar, more peaceful scene, indicating the passing of time. Madre stired from the middle of the inner nest, lifting her head as she awoke. The room was silent. Carefully she brought her head forward and around, gently nuzzling a trio of new infants one-by-one, making them yawn and stretch as they awoke from where they slept curled into the bloodied remains of a black shirt once worn by American secret service agent Leon Scott Kennedy. The last baby she licked, tousling the sandy brown hair that was growing on the top of the head, matching the hair of the previous wearer of the shirt. Blank white eyes blinked open and the little creature rose unsteadily to its feet, the small toothless mouth opening wide in a yawn. As it stumbled away, a small diamond and three small pearls glittered from where a silver necklace was embedded in the nest.

Meanwhile, towards the surface, Jill Valentine wanders into the complex, not knowing what horrors awaited her...

_To be Continued?_

Author's note: Before I say anything else, let me clarify one thing: No, she did not rape Leon. Considering on writing a scienc-ey report based on what would happen if Wesker got his hands on her that would explain it.

Also considering writing about those "hazy nightmares" I mentioned in the first chapter. I'd make that a different story, though, since it would work well as a stand-alone.


	4. Experiment Number 423R

Disclaimer: I don't own 'em if'n you know 'em.

Author's note: The last installment of the "special ending". It is not happy.

_Predator: Experiment Number 423R_

Behind the dark sunglasses, yellow slitted eyes narrowed at the document in his hands. Albert Wesker sat in his chair at an angle, leaning to one side slightly with his elbow resting on the armrest with his chin cupped in that hand. The last mission had been "clean up", unfortunately- however, he knew it was coming as soon as they lost contact with the Montana lab. He had been expecting major losses, as very few, if any, ever survive an outbreak. This one was no different.

However, there was a twist of fortune with this disaster- the statistics they had salvaged from the databases were very helpful, as well as a few… discoveries. Among them being a few new mutations he found most interesting. The new Hunters were a definite improvement over previous models, although he found quite a few dead ones scattered throughout the complex. Apparently some of the test subjects had survived, at least for a little while- he and his men found their diaries on four computers and assumed the last of them died soon after the others had. But the most interesting discovery they had made was the creature they had found when they tried to access the self-destruct console. She was a pain in the ass to subdue- he had specified she and the babies with her be taken alive at all costs- but they had finally gotten her and the two sets of children rounded up. He found it fascinating that an accidental mutation- as he had never gotten a report of a mutation that could breed- would create such a being. It had taken almost a month, but he had finally gotten a report from his scientists regarding the creature.

Smirking a bit to himself, he let his eyes scan over the document again.

_Experiment number: 423R_

_Infection: R-Virus_

_Origin: Human_

_Appearance: Humanoid with clawed hands and feet. Eyes are colorless. Brow and muzzle are prominent. Spine seems to have elongated with the incorporation of a tail. Unlike other mutations, the subject's hair seems to have remained. Multiple scars run along the body- this is believed to be the result of muscle and skeletal expansion during mutation. _

_Behavior: Feral. Will attack any unknown that comes within her nest. Keeps to the shadows when hunting. Is very protective of offspring and will not hesitate to attack anyone that she deems a threat; also becomes agitated and restless when separated from either litter. Is prone to climbing walls and ceilings to ambush prey and intruders. With the first litter nearing what is assumed adolescence, they are beginning to show pack-like behavior. _

_Other notes: Regarding the ability to breed, we discovered she holds only a womb and no ovaries or any other egg-producing organ. Rather, it seems she gathers genetic material through what she eats. With the onset of her mutation her body gained the ability to develop an unknown enzyme we have labeled 423-Carrier. The development of this enzyme is apparently triggered by foreign DNA entering her stomach. Through various tests, we have determined that this response is only activated with the introduction of DNA from humans not infected with the R-Virus. The 423-Carrier enzymes enter the stomach through the bloodstream, gather the foreign DNA, and return to the bloodstream to transport it to the womb, where it is combined with her own to "fill in the gaps". Because of this the firstborn of each litter resembles her the most, while the youngest more closely resembles the foreign DNA host. _

_Physical responses to the release of the 423-Carrier enzyme begins with Experiment 423R gorging on the blood of the DNA source while they are still alive, then proceeds to devour them entirely. _

_Regarding the offspring themselves, Infants 1.B and 1.C have begun to develop female characteristics. Also, we are beginning to see signs of imprinting on the second litter; they are not as afraid of us as they had been in the beginning. We are now considering the possibility that the infants could be tamed if exposed to humans soon after birth. Infant 2.C in particular has begun to try to follow several of us while being isolated from Experiment 423R._

_At their current rate, we estimate the time of development from birth to adulthood to be approximately six months._

'_Very interesting reading indeed_', Wesker mused to himself as he put the report down. The possibilities were endless with such a mutation. If it were possible, crossing her with human-based mutations from earlier or newer viruses could potentially produce a wealth of new and better mutations. Even the possibility of taming and training the offspring would give them the prospect of having advanced guard dogs.

Perhaps it was time for him to go see how they were doing…

Rising from his chair, he paused momentarily to pick up two of several objects on his desk- some things recovered from the nest- and stepped out of his office, the door silently sliding open to let him through.

His boot heels thudded dully on the metal floor below as he walked, calm and confident as always. Nothing would hurt him here. And if something tried… Well, it wouldn't get very far. He was feeling pretty good about this day- he had new experiments to work on, his efforts to resurrecting Umbrella under a new name were paying off, and two previous pests had been exterminated because of him- albeit indirectly. Any workers that he happened upon in the hallway stepped aside to let him through.

Yes, it was good to be king.

A short trip down an elevator and another brief walk down a hallway led him to where Experiment 423R was being held. Within a steel bar reinforced, five-inch thick tempered glass pen, the female was curled up in her nest, both litters in the containment with her. As soon as he stepped in her attention snapped to him, giving him a growling hiss as he neared the glass. He smirked at her.

From the tangle of infants, one of them managed to free itself, trotting towards him. Its mother quickly reached forward, pinning its tail to the floor and preventing it from going any further. It squeaked in protest.

He recognized it as Infant 2.C, distinguishable by the sandy brown hair that had the tendency to split down the middle and hang in its face no matter how many times its mother licked it back. The one that seemed to be imprinting more readily than the others. Interesting.

"Sir. To what are we bestowed this honor?"

The voice neither startled nor alarmed him, recognizing it as one of the scientists working on the project. He didn't take his eyes off the "family" in the cage before him. "Tell me, has it been determined if the 423-Carrier enzyme can be triggered by blood infected with an earlier virus- say, the T-Virus?"

"Not yet," came the response. "We need to wait until she gives birth to this latest litter before we can continue with the enzyme testing."

"Hn. Let me know the moment you find out." The smirk pulled at his face again. Perhaps it was time for him to have some offspring of his own…

His earpiece cackled to life and he gestured for the scientist to leave him be. "Wesker here," he spoke into the small microphone.

"_There's an Ada Wong here; claims you summoned her._"

The smirk almost turned into a grin. "Send her to Observation A. I'll meet her there."

"_Yes sir._"

Turning, he saw the same scientist relatively nearby, jotting down some notes on a clipboard. When he noticed the sunglasses pointed in his general direction, he stood at attention. "Sir?"

"Have Infant 2.C brought to Observation A. And have the lights off. I'll be there shortly."

_With Ada…_

The click of her heels were loud on the floor; they were making more noise than the armed guard escorting her, who hadn't said a word other than "follow me." In all honesty she could probably kill him if she needed to- or even wanted to- before he could call for help. But she still had work to do with Wesker- her true employers wanted her to stay with him for a little bit longer yet. So she calmly walked forward, saying nothing during their short trip down an elevator. It wasn't until the escort stopped and opened a door for her did she speak.

"It's dark."

Indeed it was- the room was pitch black inside, the only light coming from the doorway. She saw light reflecting off of _something_ inside, but it was nothing but a glimmer. Alarm instantly rose inside of her. Was Wesker onto her?

"These are my orders," was all he said, giving a lazy shrug.

Holding in a sigh, Ada stepped into the doorway, but didn't step into the room- she'd rather the door stay open until she could see what was inside.

"There you are," came the gratingly familiar voice from inside, smarmy and confident as always. "You can come in; nothing in here is going to eat you, after all."

A single lighting panel turned on, illuminating the black clothed figure sitting at the lone table. He looked up at her and smiled- or what passed as a smile for him- as the guard walked away. The glimmer- she realized- had come from those sunglasses of his.

Maintaining her air of confidence, she stepped inside, the door closing. Folding her arms loosely, she shifted her weight in a nonchalant manner. "You called?" she asked, purposefully showing some leg with the thigh-high slit in her red skirt.

"I have something to show you."

It was then she noticed something in his hand, but it was small and hard to see at the distance she was standing from him. It looked almost like a card of sorts. She was curious, but knew better than to charge in to find out what it was. For all she knew, this was just a ploy of his so he could be the one to take out the spy.

"Is that so?" she asked, again sounding disinterested.

This time he didn't say anything, and instead merely tossed the object onto the table.

This didn't leave her with much choice as to her next move, and so she stepped forward, hiding the fact that she was primed and ready for any sudden moves made by Wesker. However none came, not even when she stopped a mere five feet away from him. She gave the object- she was pretty sure it was a card now- a glance before picking it up.

She thought her eyes were deceiving her for the first few moments. But the blue eyes and sandy brown hair were almost impossible to mistake; she had seen them in the flesh several times in Spain- what, a month ago? Two? They still had that piercing gaze; those eyes told of witnessing unspeakable horrors with their intense stare. It made her stomach clench to realize she was looking at the card that identified Leon Kennedy as a government agent, but what made something in her chest twist was the fact that it was long-since bloodstained. Half of the picture was heavily tinted brown, and a great deal of the text was unreadable.

"I understand you two were… acquaintances back in Raccoon City. You have my condolences." Wesker's tone was thick with anything but sincerity. "We also found the remains of Jill Valentine with an unusual-looking Hunter- however it got away before we could capture it."

She was silent for a little bit.

"He's…"

"Dead."

She shouldn't act like she cared. She knew that. She should ignore the feeling of a blade twisting in her heart and act like she hadn't ever actually cared for Leon Kennedy, that she had never looked into those blue eyes and felt the impulse to grab his head and fiercely trap him in a kiss.

But she couldn't bring herself to do that. Instead she just continued to stare, getting the vague feeling that her heels were about to give way.

"We found what was left of him when we cleaned up after a little… accident in our Montana lab. Fortunately, it hadn't leaked outside. One of the more unusual mutations got him. I'm afraid there wasn't much left other than this and his tattered shirt."

Ada felt her knees wobble, but she didn't care. If Wesker was planning on killing her, now was an opportune time. Her eyes were locked on the card. The thought was stuck in her brain, still not quite past the recognition phase. It just seemed so impossible.

Leon Kennedy, the man who lived through the outbreak in Raccoon City and rescued the president's daughter from an army of Plagas infected villagers and cult members- the man who survived Hell _twice_- was _dead_.

She swayed a little before her knees hit the floor, still zoned out. She missed the grin on Wesker's face; he did so love these mind games… Perhaps now she would remember her place.

He let this continue for a little bit longer before he finally rose from the chair, standing in front of her. He loomed for a moment before moving away into the darkness. "But there is a part of him that lives on-"

Ada's head shot up at that, watching as his shaded outline seemed to press something nearby. A panel on the wall next to her suddenly lit up, momentarily blinding her.

"- in his offspring."

She blinked several times as her eyes squinted to adjust to the sudden light, which took several moments. She gasped when she saw what was on the other side.

The creature was small- maybe the length of her forearm at most- and utterly alone in the glass pen, its fanged mouth open in an inaudible cry. It was humanoid in form, its hands and feet ending with little claws at the end of each digit and a tail sprouting from its lower back. It was naked, but there was nothing for it to hide. Blank white eyes seemed to focus on her and it stepped closer, trying to smell her through the glass. A mop of sandy brown hair was on the top of its head, split down the middle and the fringes of its bangs hanging in its face- making it look unmistakably like Leon.

"Looks more like its father every day," commented the blonde in the room as the Asian woman put a hand on the glass, staring at the creature on the other side. Rearing up, the little beast put both front limbs on the glass against her own hand, giving it another sniff before licking it at her fingertips.

Wesker watched this interaction with interest. Ada had been close to Leon- that much was obvious- and he was eager to see how that would affect the experiment. "I have a new assignment for you."

She turned her head towards him a little, but otherwise didn't move.

"I want you to tame it."

That made her look at him.

"You are to report to me every morning. You will assist in the feeding, bathing, and testing of Infant 2.C. You will report any noticed changes in its behavior and habits to the supervising scientist. Understand?"

She said nothing, instead returning her attention to the little creature on the other side of the glass. It continued to paw and lick at her hand.

Taking her silence as submission, he nodded. "I'll leave you two to… become acquainted." He moved around her, his coat brushing against her shoulder; this time he didn't bother trying holding back the smirk until the door opened, being sure to have his usual expression as he passed the armed guard standing near the door.

Ada would hate him more than ever now. Which was fine- he had suspected she was up to something for some time now, and this would frustrate her even more. But if things continued as planned, she would undoubtedly grow quite fond of the little creature, since it looked so much like her dearly departed Leon. And that would be his trump card. Because once she gets attached, she will be all too easy to manipulate.

Reaching the elevator, he pressed a button.

If she ever tried to double-cross him, all he would have to do is threaten to have little Leon Jr. killed.

The door slid open and he stepped inside, pressing another button and the smirk appearing on his face again as the door slid closed. Tucking his hand into his pocket, he lifted it out again after he had a grip on what was inside. Lifting his hand, he observed the object. Perhaps it would be a suitable gift for Sherry…

A dainty silver chain hung from his hand, three small pearls arrayed around a small diamond hanging from the bottom and glittering in the lights of the elevator.

_The End_

Author's note: Ada seems pretty out of character to me, but I'll let you guys be the judge of that. Sorry it took so long.


	5. Epilogue

Disclaimer: Don't own 'em if'n you know 'em.

Author's note: Pretty self-explanatory chapter title... Goes into Madre's background a little bit, as discussed between myself and a friend of mine. Which- incidentally- spawned off into a few inside jokes...

_Predator: Epilogue_

Leon watched from a nearby hill as the flames burst up from the ground, consuming and destroying everything within its path. Shaking slightly, he holstered his gun and let loose a sigh of relief. Finally- it was over...

Turning, he trudged further up the hill, maneuvering around the trees. The fresh air was nice- a complete change from the recycled air down in the base- and it invigorated him a little bit as he continued up to the designated rendezvous point. The chopper would meet him there.

He still had all the papers he had gathered during his time down there; he would have to surrender them to his superiors when he got back, but he had a few friends that would be able to help him out on the inside- his mission wasn't over quite yet.

At the top of the hill, he shielded his eyes from the backwash of the helicopter as it came down for a landing. He approached as the blades slowed and the engine idled; the side door opened and a uniformed man jumped out, approaching him and extending an arm to take hold of his.

"Mr. Kennedy," he yelled over the noise of the wind and motor. "We weren't sure you were gonna make it!"

Leon said nothing as they walked to the helicopter together, instead keeping his sight on the interior of the chopper.

"We weren't given any details on it, but damn- it sounded like you were the only one that could get it done! Did you get any data?" he asked as he let Leon board first before following him.

"More than I wanted to know," came his response as he sat down on a seat and buckled himself in. Which was true, but ultimately the information would be very useful.

"Any other survivors?"

He merely shook his head.

He patted his shoulder. "I'm sure you did what you could." He then turned to the pilot. "Let's get the hell out of here Jimmy- this man needs a drink!"

As he watched the trees drop away below him, Leon caught sight of the plume of smoke that was just beginning to diminish in the obliterated ruins. The wind picked up and the cloud began to disperse; that was the last he saw of it before the helicopter turned and flew away.

_10 days later..._

Nobody looked at the sandy brown haired man that stared at the front page of a newspaper as he pretended to read it, nor did he look at anyone else. Occasionally a light would flash by the windows as the subway continued through the tunnel, but the lights inside remained on. His piercing blue eyes never moved from the paper.

His contacts from within the organization had proved useful- he had gotten a copy of certain pieces of information, which were now sitting quietly in a memory chip in his shirt pocket. He didn't tamper with the originals; the papers he had taken from the Montana base were safely tucked away in a government facility- he only had scans of the ones he wanted. However, it would be enough.

He had gotten a hold of Claire shortly after the end of his mission and had agreed to meet her in New York- she had reunited with her brother, so he would be along as well. Although they had corresponded before, he had never actually seen Chris Redfield- this would be the first time they would meet face to face. He was later told that Jill Valentine would be with them, another name he had heard of but didn't have a face to associate it with. It would be good to meet them all; it sounded like Claire had had quite an adventure the last time she had contacted him, and he wanted to know more. They had a lot of catching up to do- he had the vacation time coming, having been a good little secret service agent and all.

Okay, so that wasn't entirely true- he _had_ kept one artifact to himself rather than surrendering it to the authorities: Madre's necklace. He had hidden it from his superiors- and got away with it- but for a very good reason- he wanted to return it to her family. So when his vacation started the day after he got out of the Montana base, he searched the newspapers to gather info on her; a task that wasn't hard to do, as she was on the list of people that had recently gone missing. However, her case had been different- everyone believed she had been murdered, even though no trace of her had been found anywhere. In her last letter she had written in the base, she had specifically written a sentence directed to a certain person. As it turned out, this person was her fiancé- also the man suspect for her murder.

According to what he had told police, they had gone out together one night and were mobbed- he was knocked out, and she was raped. She became pregnant as a result. This became an almost constant dispute for them; they hadn't wanted a child to begin with, but she felt that since the birth was now inevitable, she should have it; he, however, didn't want the baby, and thought she should have an abortion. After a particularly heated argument, she had left with a friend to go hiking up in one of the larger paths along the many hills- this was the last time anyone ever saw her. Several other hikers saw her boyfriend leaving the park in his car shortly before her friend had called the police, claiming her missing. He claimed he had gone there to try to talk to her again- he knew the pregnancy was making her moody and emotional- but he chickened out before even leaving the car. Although very few seemed to believe him, he was never tried or convicted for her murder- there was no body, and no physical evidence connecting him to her murder. He still lived in their apartment they had once shared- that was where Leon had met him after knocking on the door.

It was dark hair and eyes that met his when the door cracked open, not even enough for him to get a look inside the house. The voice that followed was cautious.

"Can I help you?"

Pulling out his wallet, Leon showed him his government ID. "My name is Leon Kennedy. I'm here to talk to you about your fiancée."

The younger man seemed to tense. "Look, I already told you people a hundred times- _I didn't kill her!_"

"I believe you."

That seemed to surprise him a little bit, and the stony anger seemed to fade from his dark eyes a little. He hesitated, unsure if he could trust the blue eyed man on the other side of the door.

"I know what happened to her."

More surprise, and a second later the door shut, the clanking of a chain lock coming through the wood before the door opened again, this time unrestricted.

"All right. Come in and let's hear what you have to say."

He stepped inside, glancing around. Mail was piled up on the table in the living room, one of them open and visible- the sender of that particular piece had written "TURN YOURSELF IN" in red marker. A trash bin was nearby, already full of more letters- most likely similar to that one. The floor was not vacuumed and the kitchen was unswept, dirty dishes heaped in the sink. Apparently being accused of murdering your fiancée made household chores insignificant. Not that he could blame him- his own apartment looked similar.

The younger man shut the door behind the government agent before walking over to the table, unceremoniously pushing the pile back with an arm. Several pieces fell to the floor when they passed the edge, but he paid them no mind. Instead he pulled out a chair before sitting in the one next to it. He gestured towards the other chair for the older man to sit in it before folding his arms.

"Tomorrow there will be an official government release regarding everyone that has disappeared," he began as he sat. "You name will be cleared of all suspicions and the incident will be removed from your record."

"She's dead, isn't she?"

Leon held back a sigh. He was hoping the guy wouldn't jump to the point like that… "She is. I'm sorry."

He put his left elbow on the table, using that hand to wipe down his face. He had apparently thought she had been for a while, but that didn't make it any easier for him. Leon could sympathize.

"I'm afraid I won't be able to tell you much, but I did find something I think you should have." Reaching into his pocket, he fished out an object and set it on the table.

Removing his hand from his face, the young man could only stare for a few moments as he recognized the three pearls and small diamond. Finally he reached out and took it, holding the ornament in a hand that began to shake just a little bit. "… Her necklace…"

"I figured it was special to her, since she went through hell to get it back."

He swallowed. "It was. Her grandmother gave it to her after they found out she was dying; she almost never took it off since then..." He put a hand over his mouth as his eyes developed a definite shine.

"There's something else," Leon continued, fishing through another pocket to pull out a folded piece of paper in an envelope. "She wrote a letter during her last few minutes"- he didn't consider her time as Madre as "living"- "and in it she addressed her family- and more specifically, you." Pulling the paper from the envelope and unfolding it, he spread it out on the table before him and turned it so the younger man could read it. All but the second to last paragraph was blocked out with black marker- he didn't need to know how horribly she had died. His name in the paragraph was still blurred- as it was a copy of the sheet he had pulled from the printer in the base- but the rest was readable. The dark eyes blinked several times as he looked over the words, seeming to linger over the last few. Several moments later he spoke, but his words were muffled by the hand over his mouth.

"What?"

The hand curled into a lose fist, but remained over his mouth- almost like he was about to cough into it. "We were celebrating. We had gotten a little... out of hand one night, and when she realized she was late, we were worried she could have been pregnant. When the test came back negative, we went out to celebrate- that's when we were mugged." He slowly inhaled a shaky breath. "All I remember is getting shoved and hitting my head on the bricks, and her _screaming_..."

Leon was quiet for a little bit. No doubt this was all still a trauma for him, and getting confirmation that his fiancée was dead probably wasn't helping any. Furthermore, there was no body for him to put to rest- she had been burned to nothing in the explosion, a fact that he would never be aware of; for all he knew, her body could be lying somewhere and rotting.

"I'm sorry I can't tell you more, but the case is still being held confidential by the government. I'm putting my job at risk as it is."

The hand suddenly dropped from his mouth, but his elbow remained on the table. The dark eyes reflected how much he needed to know what he was about to ask next. "Did- did she suffer? Was it quick?"

That was a hard question to answer. He had seen people get eaten by zombies before, and those usually lasted only about thirty seconds after the first bite. However, those were usually a group of zombies- unless the first bite hit a major vein, it could have been a few minutes before she finally died if it had been only one. No doubt that felt like an eternity when it came to being devoured, not to mention how much terror must have been going through her at the time.

"... A few minutes, at most."

The younger man hung his head, his face out of the government agent's view. That didn't keep him from seeing the drops that splattered against his pants and the floor beneath him, his chest jumping a little as his other hand rose to block the flow.

That was about a week ago.

The same dark hair and eyes looked back at him now, this time as a newspaper clipping he was holding over the front page the other passengers suspected he was reading. Apparently, a few days after Leon had met him, the young man had swallowed twenty pills and took a nap. He was now staring at his obituary.

They had held his funeral three days ago; Leon had still been in Montana at the time, so he went. Although he had mostly kept to himself- save offering his condolences to his parents- he had kept his ears open. What he didn't learn from the discussions of the people around him he used his government ID to get from the coroner and the police. From what he had gathered, he had been found on their couch- the same couch that was a gift from her parents, and that had been in the house she had lived in when she lived with her parents- that they would often nap on. He had had one hand on his chest, which was closed in a fist when rigor mortis had settled in. After struggling to pry his hand open, they discovered he was tightly clutching his fiancée's necklace. According to the family he had overheard talking during the funeral, the jewelry was returned to her parents, who gave it to her brother, in case he ever married and had a daughter.

The speakers overhead crackled to life as the train slowed down. Recognizing his stop, he rose to his feet, joining the rush of people as they flooded out through the doors. He briefly disappeared in the herd, moving with the flow as everyone hurried to get where they needed to go. A hundred footsteps later he blinked as the bright sunlight struck his eyes, making him squint until they adjusted.

The cafe was relatively small, with several tables and chairs on a patio that was constructed over the sidewalk. Rather than going the extra distance through the building, he opted instead to take the stairs that took him directly to the patio. His hands in his pockets, he took his time, hearing his footsteps clang dully on the metal. He didn't look at anyone else seated up there, rather right away finding a table isolated from the others. Four chairs- it would do.

As soon as he sat down a waiter approached him. A high school kid looking for a summer job, apparently, but still seemed to put some effort into his work. "Anything I can get you, sir?"

Leon glanced up. "Just a water for now; I'm waiting for some friends to show up."

The kid nodded, tucking the notepad and pencil back into the dark green apron he wore that matched the color of the patio and furniture. He disappeared inside the building.

Leaning back in his chair, Leon crossed one leg over the other as he pulled an arm back to rest it on the back of the chair. The slight breeze that found its way though the tall buildings made his sandy brown bangs- the ones that liked to stubbornly hang in his face- wave a little bit. He had had them cut evenly at the time of the Raccoon City incident- it was his first day on the job, after all, and he wanted to make a good first impression. It turned out surviving was the best first impression he would be making that day...

A glass of water was suddenly put in front of him, and he sat up, internally startled but not showing any outward sign of it. He murmured a thanks as he uncrossed his legs and leaned forward against the table, taking the glass. He didn't really hear the waiter's reaction as he brought the glass to his lips, watching the kid's white shirt walk away from the corner of his eye as he surveyed the area around him.

It was a good spot- in the back corner, meaning they would see if anyone approached, making it harder for someone to "accidentally" overhear without them knowing. So far, the tables around him were fairly empty- most people preferred the nice air-conditioned interior- so they wouldn't have to worry about anyone sitting nearby for a while. There would be four of them; sitting one on each side, there would be at least two pairs of eyes on each direction. Although their position would be a bit public, if they spoke quietly enough they should be able to speak freely.

The sound of footsteps coming up the metal stairs caught his attention and he lowered the glass, keeping his gaze neutral as he watched to see who it was coming up.

The first thing he saw was short brown hair, almost in a military buzz. The guy was buff- not absurdly so, but he looked strong enough to hold his own in a fight. He wore a faded green tanktop and comfortable fitting jeans. Behind him followed two smaller figures- both female. He rose to his feet as he recognized the smallest in a vest, hair up in a ponytail. He knew of only one girl that dressed like that...

Sure enough, the girl's eyes met his and a smile instantly split her face, the hand gripping the strap of her pack over a shoulder tighter as she suddenly charged forward, brushing past her brother- he assumed- as an excited call of "Leon!" escaped her.

He couldn't help but to smile as the girl ran right up to him, throwing her arms around him and almost knocking him over. He chuckled as he returned the hug; the last time this had happened was with Ashley back in Spain...

"Long time no see," he greeted as she let him go.

The other two moved to stand beside her, and Leon moved his focus to the other man. "You must be Chris."

With a smile, he offered a hand. "I've been meaning to thank you in person," he said as they shook hands. "For watching over Claire in Raccoon City."

"Hell of a lot better than trying to do it alone," he replied, "but I imagine you already know what that's like."

They released, and Chris motioned towards the other woman. "This is Jill. She was one of the other S.T.A.R.S. members that managed to get out of there."

Refocusing his attention, he offered his hand to the woman. She took it with a strong grip and a smile.

"Jill Valentine."

"Good to finally meet you; I've heard quite a bit."

"Most of it good, I hope," she said with something between a smirk and a grin.

That made him chuckle. "Let's just say it's an honor."

Introductions over, they all sat down- Chris across from him, Claire to his right, and Jill to his left. The waiter returned, taking their orders- waters for Chris and Jill, while Claire took a Coke- and once they were delivered, the four all leaned up against the table in their chairs, effectively forming a semi-private huddle without looking too conspicuous.

"So," began Chris. "Claire tells me you've been in Montana lately."

He nodded as he swallowed a sip of his water. "Been keeping busy." With his free hand, he reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a sealed envelope while briefly scanning the area with his eyes to ensure nobody was watching. Once he deemed it safe, he set the envelope on the table and slid it over to Chris, entrusting him with the chip and its contents. "So has Wesker."

_End_

Author's note: Yup. That's it. The group swaps info about their adventures and what they learned, hang out for a while, then go their separate ways- Chris and Jill heading for Russia and who knows where Leon and Claire end up... Although I'd like to see Steve make a comeback. Maybe like Wesker, but not evil. Maybe in another game where Leon and Claire pair up again.


End file.
